


An Officer & Scoundrel

by sterling_schreibt



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Domesticity, F/M, Miscellaneous Short, Pregnancy, SOLDIER - Freeform, Sexual Content, Wartime Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 22:39:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19029388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterling_schreibt/pseuds/sterling_schreibt
Summary: Officer Richart returns to his wife during a short leave from the front.





	An Officer & Scoundrel

If he gallopped faster, just a bit faster, he'd make it to her before dusk. His mare huffed gusts of steam into the black of the night, and the torch he held above her head made him see mere inches from where they chased down the forest path. Digging his heels into the soft sides of the racing animal, he leaned closer yet, trying to make himself into the smallest possible obstacle. The wind was harsh, his ears and nose burned from frost, but he suddenly spotted the tiny glowing rectangle that was her house's window.  
"Come now!" he hissed into his horse's ear, clinging to the reins with gloved hands. The hail drove tears from his eyes that froze on his cheeks before falling off his face entirely.  
He could almost feel the heat on his cold features, the stew that must be bubbling above the fireplace, and her hands, soft and caring, peeling layer after layer away until he lay bare in front of her curious gaze.  
His mare came to a shuddering hold in the icy sludge and the man dutifully led her into the stables, the warmth of which made it nearly impossible to leave again. With a heavy sigh, he rushed over the threshold and near fell into the house, boldting the door before another squall would take out the fire.

There she stood, unfazed by his dramatic entrance whereas anyone else would have dropped to their knees, pleading for forgiveness or wondering how to serve a man of his calibre.  
Officer Richart stood rigid in his uniform, snow and mud dripping from his boots, his overcoat slipping off his shoulders from its weight and rain. He managed to gracefully hang it over the nearby assistant before marching over - only to be met halfway by the young woman who cared neither for his slight shiver, nor the prints on the floor. Once they dried she'd simply swipe the dust out.  
He had her in his embrace and off her feet before she could utter a sound, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. Her warmth, the soft skin and locks that fell over her shoulders as they clung to each other were a godsend. Already she was plucking at his gloves and belt, their first kiss a heated one, eager to feel and taste each other after weeks apart.  
His hand carefully slipped down and held the first real sign of their love for each other, and her breath hitched as she undid the buttons of his uniform jacket.

"Does he let you sleep?" his voice rumbled, low and caring, against her cheek. She smiled, nodding.

"More than you do."

He too nodded, unable to laugh, when the fatigue he'd suppressed all day and night finally washed over him, rendering his arms and legs barely capable of working. She pulled up a chair beside the fire for him to rest while she gently undressed him amidst thankful groans and grunts. He sat silent for a long while, watching her stir the heavy cauldron, occasionally taking a tiny sip from their late dinner. His toes regained feeling and the flames' sizzling eased him to contentment. He felt her wrap a thick blanket around his shoulders, his otherwise bare form slightly shaking at her touch. 

"My love," he began, but she had already brought him a basin of steaming water and a soapy rag. He thanked her and meticulously cleaned his face, neck, and shoulders. When he saw that she was preparing two bowls with stew, he went on cleaning his arms and chest as well. She urged him to stay seated and wait for the food to cool down while she scrubbed the sweat and grim of his calves and thighs, turning them rosy in the process.  
Just when he thought they might postpone dinner, she coquettishly wrung the the rag and gave his buttocks a squeeze, ordering him to eat up.  
Richart was hungrier than he'd thought, greedily devouring two full bowls of broth and meat, and almost half a loaf of bread. She gingerly managed through half, under his watchful yet loving gaze that followed her as she cleaned the table. He stood, the blanket wrapped tightly around his hips, and led her to bed, a wooden construction made to withstand a battle axe assault, sturdy and big enough for the two of them. She lay down, her dress now clearly showing the bump of her abdomen over which she protrectively folded her hands.  
"There's no need," he told her as he climbed between her legs, pulling the towel off his waist, "I want to see everything."  
She reluctantly moved her arms, wrapping them around his shoulders as he helped her out of her thin layers and held her close against him. He needed a moment just to breathe her in, smell her scent until it clouded his senses before adjusting himself properly. She snaked a leg around his hips and encouraged him, inviting him into her with a slow thrust that had them both gasping. Again, they stayed for a moment, enjoying their closeness, before Richart started a languid rhythm, pushing and pulling, trying to read her every expression as he did.  
She just wanted him all around her, using whatever leverage she had to grab and knead at him until he melted on top of her, gradually giving into her ministrations. He tended to start careful, especially now that he could see his child grow in her, but it wasn't amidst his repertoire to hold back; it never had been with Max. She drew him into her body like a succubus, devouring him from head to toe and not letting go until she had everything he could give her.  
Richart felt her fingers coil to fists as he became rougher in his strokes, harsher and less relenting his noises, his hands pushing his body up so he had more room to move. It was difficult for him to ignore her pleading eyes, wide with pleasure and a need he was certain he mirrored, but he soon rammed himself into her like she'd command him to each time he returned to her.

She curled up around him, slender and warm, a sheen of sweat gleaming on her forehead. He was dabbing at his face with a small towel, his vision clear and focused. Richart decided that he would stay for the night, maybe leave in the early morning, if the snow allowed him to.


End file.
